


Give Me A Break

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Carnival, Day At The Beach, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: Miss Pauling's going to need a vacation from overseeing a short vacation for the mercenaries.
Relationships: Miss Pauling/Scout (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Round and Round

**Author's Note:**

> part one of three.

After another successful round which effectively made yet another stalemate, the mercenaries were rounded up after showers and mess for the bus trip. Miss Pauling had spent the last ten minutes mentally listing all the things that would probably go wrong, as babysitting nine fully grown men was just one of the perks of her job.

Usually, this would be the point to send them to the next area, but Saxton Hale had informed them at the last moment that they were having mandatory vacation time. At this point, it was practically a kidnapping. Though, it'd hardly be the first time that'd happened to them, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

She tapped her pencil on the clipboard, and only gave a cursory glance as several of them boarded the bus. They were laughing at some joke she hadn't caught the beginning of, and came in single file, starting with Soldier.

The mercenaries didn't vary much in their seating choices from day to day. Sniper sat alone near the back, his hat pulled down over his face as he caught some rest after a long day. Heavy was large enough to take nearly an entire seat of his own, so that Medic would have to take a seat on his lap, or drape his legs across Heavy's own to fit right. Spy sat alone, and spent his time looking out the window, or writing down letters with a book in his lap for balance.

Demoman sat next to Soldier and spend the entire trip loudly laughing at things only demolition experts would get, while and Engineer sat on the aisle, leaving Pyro the window seat. This particular seating choice was half necessity, half preference as no one else would sit near Pyro, and it was best to keep their resident pyromaniac occupied, lest they have a repeat of the time Pyro tried to set the entire building on fire.

Scout varied largely on whether she was there or not. He could be bothering any of the mercenaries, but if she was on board, he would be near as if some kind of magnetic force was involved. She didn't even have too look up to know he'd be gravitating towards her. Technically, she could've sat in the aisle seat instead of near the window, but last time she did that Scout hadn't gotten the hint and had leaped over the seat.

"Yo, Miss Pauling."

She was about to begin the spiel she'd thought up while doing her hair that morning. _It's not you, it's the company policy of feeding anyone who breaks contract to crocodiles. Attempting to have free time counts as breaking contract, by the way..._

But before she could, she felt pressure on her shoulder. Five seconds of silence from Scout was highly suspicious. She glanced to the side, and found that eyes were closed. Miss Pauling pushed him with her finger, only to find him not stir in the least.

"Did he just die?" Miss Pauling said.

Medic turned around eagerly. He considered Scout for a moment, then looked somewhat disappointed. "Ah, that. He just collapses from time to time. I believe it is a side effect of the Bonk, _ja_."

"And here I thought you were drugging him again," Spy said. "I was going to nominate you for a Nobel prize for doing the impossible and making Scout shut up."

They hit a sizable bump, which caused Scout to shift just a little forward. Another one made him land just a little further down, right into her chest.

"If you aren't sleeping, I'm going to make you regret it very much," Miss Pauling said in a chilly voice.

"A shame. He finally gets to touch breasts and he slept through the whole thing," Spy said.

"Ach, the lad needs a hooker. We should pass around a hat and buy him one. It's not like he'll ever do the job himself," Demoman said.

"That's for damn sure," Sniper said. Apparently 'hooker' was the magic word to wake him. Or maybe he hadn't been sleeping after all, and was just shutting them all out.

"A _patriotic hooker!_ " Soldier added.

"Screw that. We all deserve a hooker. _Hookers for everyone!_ "

A few men cheered, while Heavy, Medic and Pyro were too busy with their assorted food and birds and only God knew what. Spy also ignored their cheers and refused to join in on their merriment.

Scout probably would've been cheering loudest of all, but as of the moment, he was out of it.

"Your liver deserves an award for what you put it through," Spy said.

"My liver deserves _all the awards!_ ," Demoman said. He laughed and raised his Scumpy, presumably toasting his liver. Soldier raised his hand, like he was holding an invisible glass. He even made the drinking motions, making Miss Pauling wonder if he actually thought he _was_ drinking.

Despite their raucous laughter, Scout didn't wake up, or even shift. Considering he wasn't exactly at Spy's level of acting or faking his own death, she had to conclude that he really had passed out. Another bump, and he'd fallen face first into her lap. He actually looked rather sweet while he was out, his hat fallen off and his hair all messed up. She rested her hand on his back. Despite being wiry and seemingly scrawny, she felt scars and hard muscle beneath her fingers.

She had a sudden image of a tired, but actually _awake_ Scout burying his face in her lap after a long day, of her stroking his back. She saw all these snapshots possibilities—him leaning over to kiss her, giving her flowers––and the will to push him off, to tell him _no, never, this is a bad idea_ got stuck in her throat.

"Medic, when we return, it's imperative you look into Scout's condition. He is a member of the team, after all, and it would be a problem if he were to say, pass out while taking intel, capturing a point, or pushing the cart."

The group looked skeptically at her.

"Are ye sure we can't just put him on top of the cart?" Demoman said.

"He will valiantly flop that cart off the moon!" Soldier bellowed.

"No," she sighed. "He has to be fixed."

"I'll see what I can do," Medic said.

It was a good thing he was sleeping, she thought. Otherwise he'd think she was going sweet on him.

*

When the bus took another abrupt stop—for Saxton Hale drove as he lived, extreme and often while wrestling wild animals of various varieties—she caught Scout before he could fall to the floor. She pushed him up—glad that it'd been the lightest of the group to pass out on her—and took her place at the front.

"If he doesn't come to in the next few minutes, someone will need to carry him," she said without looking up from her notes.

"I'll carry the boy, I haven't lifted enough cows today, anyways!"

If he'd said that about her, she would've had to have had a word with her boss.

Saxton Hale hefted Scout up like a rag doll. "Weighs less than my twelve year old niece. She has more facial hair than him, too."

He tossed Scout up, caught him again and then shook him. "Wake up, boy! It's time!"

The only thing this could accomplish was broken bones and another Respawn. However, to her surprise, Scout actually began to come to.

"Mwwwhuh?"

"Ye were out again, lad," Demoman said. "Out like a light."

"Out right on her chest," Spy said as he absently pulled out another cigarette from his case.

"Wait, _what?_ " Scout said. He stared from man to man. "I was on her chest?! I don't remember this!"

"You were passed out," Miss Pauling said with a sigh.

 _"Son of a bitch!_ You've got to be frickin' kiddin' me. Seriously?" He looked around from mercenary to mercenary. "Aww, _man_."

Miss Pauling rubbed at her temples. For once, she wished Spy could've left well enough alone.


	2. Life's A Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by that the guy from [this art](http://massgrfx.deviantart.com/art/Beach-Bully-63661693), who reminded me of Scout.
> 
> The Sniper knits in the Valve Christmas cards, and it amuses me too much to dismiss as a joke.
> 
> Thanks to Ginger for the beta.
> 
> For Madie. That paperwork stuff sounds kind of stressful. Hope this helps!
> 
> Funny enough, I had a draft of this way before the [Rancho Relaxo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HJnW0GLDVE) was released. (This series is from circa 2013)

They arrived at the beach at midday, a barely crowded section which Saxton swore was theirs for at least a few hours. He hadn't elaborated, so she couldn't tell if buried bodies, blackmail or punching sharks had been involved. In her line of work, it was better not to ask.

The sand was too hot and the water too cold, to say nothing of the kinds of creatures in the deep and hiding in the dunes. Saxton Hale may have loved the beaches and seas for their hidden dangers, but she sure didn't.

Pyro wore a black wet suit like his usual flame retardant suit, but of another material entirely, and was printed with a very bright flower pattern. The gas mask remained on, for some reason. 

"You're not too hot in there?" Engineer asked.

"Hudda huddha ha!"

"Ah, right. You like it hot."

Pyro nodded enthusiastically, and waddled out towards the waves. For a moment he almost seemed on the brink of falling face first into the water, but he caught himself. Apparently, the suit had some kind of inflation device installed within, because soon Pyro was floating on his back and splashing at the water like a gleeful child.

Engineer hefted up what must have once been a toolbox, but had been transformed into a makeshift cooler. He still wore his overalls, and seemed to have no compulsion to go anywhere near the water. She wasn't surprised; he probably would hate to get his hand rusty. He sighed in relief and pulled out a bottle of beer. A lounge chair sprung up from a small box he'd built, with extra padding, beer holders, and even a small umbrella to keep the sun out of his eyes. Engineer was about to sink his bottle into the sand, but Sniper handed him a knitted cozy in the colors of the Australian flag.

"No worries, mate. I made this for her last time I was waiting around."

"Of course, you have so much _time_ ," Spy said. He'd been standing on the side, wearing a speedo which showed more than she ever wanted to know about him. Sniper glared at him, and pulled his hat down a little lower.

"At least I fill my time with something productive, instead of _sleeping with the enemy,_ " Sniper said.

"Fighting resumes in forty-eight hours. Until then, please keep yourselves restrained," she said. She stared them both down.

"Wouldn't waste my time baitin' a bloody Spy," Sniper muttered.

"You seem awful fond of wasting your time," Spy said, starting the whole war over again.

Miss Pauling cleared her throat. 

"Screw you, you're gettin' in the way of my valuable knittin' time," Sniper said. He went off, knitting needles in one hand, a beer in the other. Spy looked off to the ocean, his feet dug deep into the sand. Sniper had gone to sit by Engineer, and was amiably chatting with him while drinking and knitting away.

Demoman was snoring away, deep in his nap after that drinking contest Soldier had challenged him to. It also might explain why Engineer's other beer cooler had gone missing.... And why his new one had a little mini-sentry installed on it. Soldier was busy destroying the beach, making foxholes for when the communists attacked. Heavy remained as uninterested as ever in stealing Soldier's freedom, but Soldier was convinced that Heavy sat up late at night planning elaborate heists of the American flag. 

He'd built up a bunker around Demoman, with toothpicks he'd gotten out of the picnic basket to suffice for his walls. She didn't even ask when it came to Soldier anymore.

And Scout was talking to a group of girls, and was apparently too dense to realize they weren't laughing _with_ him. Miss Pauling pushed up her glasses and narrowed her eyes at the sight. 

"Well, _someone's_ fickle," she said under her breath.

Not that she cared. She had plenty of other things to do. Like the novel which she brought and now couldn't seem to pay attention to. Not as if she cared that Scout made a fool of himself. It wasn't her business. Of course she wouldn't have any time to herself, not with all the _babysitting_ she would have to be doing for these nine grown men.

Pyro had returned, with wet sand clinging all to his black suit. He let out a _Hudda!_ and started burying Engineer's feet in the sand.

"You gonna bury me?" Engineer said. He smiled, just a little. A hint of caring through all his rough edges.

Pyro nodded enthusiastically and heaped more sand on him. Whole buckets of sand poured out from a flower bucket they'd paid all of three dollars at a local supermarket. It had a matching flower shovel, and other sandcastle shaping buckets and implements. Pyro started with is feet, and then started shaping something, she couldn't quite tell what.

"That's fine, just don't get any in my drink," Engineer said.

Sniper stopped his knitting just long enough to glance over their way. He pulled out another knitting needle—how many did he have, anyways?––and started cutting designs into Pyro's burying work. Pyro worked surprisingly fast, as Engineer was already buried to the waist, and was by all accounts, perfectly calm with the turn of events. 

Medic and Heavy were missing. She shaded her eyes with her hand, and located them just beyond the Engineer-mound—only his head and arms were free from the sand, now.

There was a very large picnic basket between them, one that Heavy seemed very intent on emptying. Medic was ripping up pieces of bread to feed to a flock of seagulls.

Miss Pauling had pulled her hair back so she could wear a large black sunhat to keep her face from being sunburned. She'd done little but occasionally yell orders from her little triangle of shade all day. She'd just recovered from a nasty sunburn three weeks ago, and wasn't going to have a repeat of miserable nights of aching arms and sore skin.

Her fitted purple one-piece had lasted her many years, but Miss Pauling preferred the classics to the trendy any day. Besides, two pieces weren't for swimming, and if she had to dive in and keep one of the men from killing each other, or help pull them from the depths, she didn't want to have to worry about her top disappearing.

A hint of red came in the side of her vision. He was stripped down to the waist, showing off muscles he didn't have a few years ago. He was lean and wiry, with a farmer's tan of even paler tan lines where his shirt had been.

"Yo," Scout said.

She flipped another page back as sat down near her. She'd lost her place again. 

"Hey, the girls over there gave me directions, and guess what? There's an ice cream and beer stand nearby here!" 

"Was that all they said?" she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

"Well, they did recommend the Strawberry Daquiri. Told 'em I was a beer kind of guy, but if you got one, I might just help you finish it. I went there, but they carded me and didn't believe my ID when I showed it! Couldn't believe that bullshit," Scout said. As he talked, he gestured with his hands, this time in barely contained anger. 

"Is that why you came back, to ask me to buy beer for you? Engineer should have some in his cooler," she said.

"Nah, this is my seat. I was always goin' to be comin' back here," Scout said. His irritation faded as he looked at her, almost to nothing. He flashed her a winning smile and leaned back under her shade. Her beach towel had long ago turned sandy, digging into her back. Little grains had made their way into her fitted violet one piece bathing suit. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to escape the reach of the scratchy granule, which only made her bare leg press up against his knee.

He paused a second, his attention stuck on the body contact. 

"Really though, you gotta have the ice cream. Lucy over there says the chocolate is to _die_ for," Scout said.

"Does she now?" Miss Pauling said.

She moved her leg away from the heat of his skin. She kept reading at her novel which she was hopelessly lost in, the words passing by unnoticed and meaningless threads that didn't connect. She was too aware of him, yet unwilling to admit defeat to herself just yet.

Scout continued on obliviously. "Yeah, the line's a killer, though. You want chocolate? I think they got vanilla and ice cream, maybe chocolate mint too, I didn't get close enough to tell. I could get you both, but you'd have to eat them up fast---they'd melt to slush in this heat."

She could refuse and get back to her book, but sharing food was hardly breaking her contract. Sweat trickled down her neck. 

"Actually... I'd love a chocolate, thanks," she said.

"I'll be back in a flash. Or maybe like, an hour. That line was really long!" He winked as he pushed himself up, kicking sand all over her blanket. With a sigh, she wiped it clean, a new grainy feeling to her hands.

She tried to return to her novel. No screams or sound of gunfire was a good sign for now. Still, her attention kept moving back towards the stand, until the paragraphs blurred. Eventually, she set the book aside and just rested her eyes. 

She heard it first at the shriek. It was so high pitched that for a moment, she thought it was one of the girls. She shielded her face from the sun with her hand and glanced down the beach to see the crowd just move far enough for her to catch what had happened. Scout lay on the sand face first. The guy was at least Heavy-sized, but bulging biceps and triceps bigger than both of Scout's arms put together. He shoved two ice cream cones in his mouth at once. Which was a feat, she had to suppose.

Scout pushed himself up from the sand. "What the hell, man? Who steals someone's _ice cream?_ The fuck is this, a playground?"

"You shouldn't have cut in front of me, beanpole," the man said. His voice was deep and gravelly. Thick veins showed through his oversized muscles. His head was so bald that if he turned at the right angle, he very well could have used it for a weapon. Thankfully, he wasn't that resourceful.

"So what if I hopped the line? Ain't my fault you're as slow as a rock and about just as stupid. In fact, you're so generic, if this was a movie, you'd be beach bully number 2. Yeah, that's right, they wouldn't even give you a _name_. No one would remember your face, because it looks like ass."

The other mercenaries were farther off. She pulled his scattergun out of the bag he'd left there, and found it was heavier than anticipated, and slug it over her shoulder. The man raised his fist, and she saw Scout go down hard to the sand. The hulking man kicked him in the ribs, while more of the beach goers shrieked. A mother covered her pale child's face. In the commotion, she hadn't even seen the few families slip past the boundaries. It was supposed to be a private beach, too. Who did she have to kill to get some peace and quiet over here? 

She slid down the dunes, her flip flops lost in the sand somewhere behind. The man's full attention was on Scout, leaving his back entirely unprotected. Just as he was about to kick Scout in the ribs again, she pushed the gun between his shoulder blades.

"If you don't want to end up buried in a shallow grave, I advise you step off and find other things to do," she said.

He slowly turned his gaze around, and she pushed the gun harder against him to punctuate her point.

"You his girlfriend?" He said. His voice was husky and deep. She barely came up to his massive pectoral muscles.

"I _wish_ —"

"He _wishes_ —"

They'd spoken at the same time, almost a jinx. Scout glanced at her. She kept her gaze on the hulk of a man before her.

"You and what army, little girl? What a cute little toy gun."

"I don't think I need an army. This gun has devastating results at close range. Besides, should that fail, there's always the eight other highly skilled mercenaries," she said.

The man looked out at the beach. Sniper was drawing penises and jars of piss on Engineer's sand mound, while Pyro filled the rest with flowers and swirls. Medic looked like a curmudgeonly tourist grandfather, complete with fanny pack, golf visor, and overly loud Hawaiian shirt. Heavy was wearing an ill-fitting horribly clashing Hawaiian shirt that somehow matched Medic's in its awfulness. Scout looked like he couldn't lift her, let alone the gun she was holding, and Spy looked more prone to discuss existentialist philosophy...but probably not in that speedo.  
Soldier was completely immersed in his foxhole, and apparently he had dragged Demoman in there with him as well.

"I said they were deadly, I never said they were _smart_ ," Miss Pauling said.

The man was about to respond, when his blond girlfriend rushed close and clung to his arm. Her black and white polka dot two piece was so skimpy, she mentally wondered how it managed to stay on without slipping. Maybe there was glue involved.

"Come on, Rocky. Let 'em be. He's like a scrawny twelve year old compared to you. He's nothing. Just let it be."

"I'm not that bad," Scout protested. "In fact, I'm damn manly, see?!"

"You're only making it worse," she said.

Leave it to Scout to do the loudmouthed thing which got them all in trouble. At this rate, it seemed somewhere between a special calling and a talent which he had honed into expertise.

He flexed his bicep. Rocky had more muscle in his pinkie finger than Scout had in both arms.

"We ain't just fighting for honor, Lucy, we're fighting for _ice cream_."

She nodded, her blonde ponytail bobbing. "Okay. Punch him extra hard for me."

"Are you too poor to buy your own ice cream or somethin'? It was only a buck-fifty!"

"You should've let us through for ice cream," the man said darkly, his voice low. He flexed his large hands, just ready to snap bones or choke the life out of him.

"I had dibs on that space, so you can just fuck off, you steroid-guzzlin' meathead!"

Rocky grabbed Scout's dog tags so hard she was surprised they didn't rip. He pulled Scout up effortlessly.

"I'd give you a chance to apologize, but I'm tired of seein' your ugly mug," Rocky said. He pulled his massive arm back, winding for a punch that could easily break all of Scout's ribs. Her finger twitched on the trigger. She didn't want to have to fire on him, but— 

A piece of bread hit the man's head. Rocky blinked back as several more pieces of bread hit him, some landing to stay on his bald head, others laying on his shoulders.

"Bread, really?" Rocky said.

She took the second of distraction to slam the butt of the scattergun into his chin. He didn't quite topple, but he let out a moan of a cry, a dazed look in his eyes. 

"Better hope you have enough ammo in that gun, because Rocky doesn't need to hit twice. Especially not a pipsqueak like you," Lucy said.

She smirked with all the assurance of a woman whose boyfriend could probably bench press cars with ease. 

In a better circumstance, she might have hired him, and maybe even Lucy as well. But as they were, she lifted up the barrel of the gun to his head.

Before he could say anything more than a grunt of pain, before she could fire, the overwhelming shrieking of birds interrupted anything that could've happened. 

The whole flock of seagulls descended from the skies, white feathers and beaks barely discernible from each other. With the scattergun under one arm, she grabbed Scout's wrist and all but dragged him out of the way and down the beach, past the screams of Rocky and his girlfriend.

Through the shrieks and frenzied people running away from the bird army, she could hear Medic's triumphant laughter. 

" _Weaponized birds!_ " Medic cried from across the beach. "Also, nice aim," he said brightly. He high fived Heavy's massive hand. 

"We are onto something, Doktor," Heavy said.

"I think we are!"

Engineer, having taken stake of the situation had broken himself out of the sand mound, and had his wrench out, and was hitting his sentry-cooler. Sniper had pulled out his Kukuri, and was looking on. Demoman and Soldier were still nowhere to be seen. Spy was rolling his eyes so hard that you could practically hear his condescension and annoyance from over here.

"We should leave before this turns into a bloodbath. The last thing I want to do for a vacation is fill out paperwork and hide more bodies," Miss Pauling said. 

"That was incredibly hot," Scout said. "You saved me! Also, hot. Did I mention hot? I should take you out to dinner as a thank you." 

"As I said, I was protecting the interests of the company, nothing more," she said.

"Oooh, you jealous? You sound awful ticked off, Miss P."

"I'm just doing my job. f you choose to repeatedly make a fool of your in front of yourself trying to flex in front of a bunch of girls, it's no concern of mine. But please, don't get yourself killed."

"What you....you _are_ jealous! Seriously, I was just gettin' ice cream and directions. Not that you'd care if you weren't sweet on me," Scout said.

"Obviously I don't want you to die—I don't want to deal with that much paperwork."

His enthusiasm only dampened a little. Not even he could be swayed by such flimsy words.  
She handed his gun over, and started towards the umbrella with her things.

"Hey, wait a minute!" He called after her.

She kept walking.

"Hey, Miss P!"

"If you want to be a help, go collect the rest of the men," she said. She didn't turn back.

Scout took off at a jog down the beach. If _Scout_ could see through her pathetic disguise, then everyone else could see what a fool she was. 

*

On the ride back, she held the ice pack to his eye. He was close enough that his thigh was pressed close to hers, and she knew it was no accident. But, even knowing this, she didn't draw away.

"You'll have one hell of a nasty shiner," she said.

"Yeah, I had my share of those. I never did get you that ice cream, though. Sorry about that, I didn't have time to run back to the stand," Scout said. He shrugged, apologetic. 

"Sometimes things happen. Explosions, people you have to kill, or send weaponized birds at," She said.

"I owe you one, though. And not just an ice cream. What you did with that gun was _amazin'_. I figured you could hold your own, but I didn't know you were ready for the front lines!"

He flinched. His exuberance had made his ribs ache all over again.

"I'd prefer it if none of ye were talking," Demoman said. His constant drinking didn't lessen the hangovers any. He had Soldier's helmet over his head to block out the light, and leaned on his comrade in an attempt to drown out the sound. Soldier looked up with a maniac ferocity, and she had no doubt he would personally rip out tongues and vocal cords if need be.

"We have a _man down._ Shut your traps, maggots!"

Never mind that Soldier was far louder than any of them had been. Scout looked to her like he was asking her permission for something unspoken.

"Don't. He'll just choke you again," she said in an undertone. "You don't need to be spending your entire vacation with even more broken bones."

"You really do worry about me," Scout said. 

"It's my job," she said.

"Then I guess I'll have to make you worry lots more, huh? Since it's my job and all," Scout said.

Miss Pauling narrowed her eyes. "Being a dumbass is not part of your job description, though you sure do excel at it."

Far be it from take this as an insult, he flushed with pride, as if she'd given him a great compliment.

"Hey, I got you to say I was good at somethin'! That's a start. So, you're a chocolate ice cream person, huh? I like Neapolitan. Then you get a bunch of flavors at once. Like three for the price of one. That's one hell of a good deal for me. Though Rocky Road and Caramel Turtles are pretty good too. Funny thing, as a kid, I thought they were really made of turtles, so I refused to eat the stuff."

Scout talked on, as he was so prone to. His voice had grown comforting despite herself. The only sound besides him was the low thrum of the motor, the tires, and the occasional sounds of the men—breathing, coughs, the clearing of throats. She wistfully had a second's thought of an alternate outcome of the day. A sunny summer day spent together under the umbrella, reading a novel while he rubbed sunscreen on her back. Treating sunburns, and saltwater kisses in the shade.

She tried to not focus on his knee to hers, or the slight relaxing point in her shoulders at a childhood's summer story. Foolishness, that's all it was. She looked out the window and focused on the coming landscape. Ravines and rivers turned to city blacktop, and a Ferris wheel in the distance.


	3. For Your Amusement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the goat wrestling mention is a reference to [The Goat](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iiVm6zmsGNE) on HIMYM.
> 
> This is pre-Mann vs Machine/TF comics plotline and pre-Expiration Date, because the majority of this fic was written back in 2013. 
> 
> Follows [Round and Round](http://bonnefois.dreamwidth.org/858230.html) and [Life's A Beach](http://bonnefois.dreamwidth.org/1110422.html) in a series called "Give Me A Break." This is the last part.
> 
> Happy birthday, Hazmad.

The bus broke down almost into the city. It would be unprofessional to say that Miss Pauling was on the verge of murdering certain mercenaries and boisterous shop owners and hiding the bodies in an abandoned mine, but _oh, she was._

Miss Pauling stared out at the distance, metal and lights flickering in the late afternoon.

"What kind of fair do you think it is? A sports fair?" Scout said.

"Nah, it ain't nothin' special like that. Just your regular run of the mill fair," Engineer said.

"Hudda hudda!" Pyro pushed out, until he was staring out. At the sight of the Ferris wheel, Pyro let out a joyous _Mpphaa!!_

"I can't work on it until it gets cooled down, and I get more parts, anyways," Engineer said. "I'll get some of those on the way."

"They sell bus parts in a fair?" Miss Pauling said.

"You'd be surprised," Engineer said.

"All aboard the final stop of the Mann Vacation, this random local fair! It turns out I actually have to _tell_ Helen when I kidnap you guys, and you should've been at work all along. She's so _silly,_ " he said. Saxton Hale broke out laughing. Only he could get away with calling the Administrator silly and kidnap all her mercenaries, and probably live through it.

"I guess you could say it's _only fair_ , right guys?" Scout said. He looked around with eagerness, waiting for the laughter which never came.

"Ach, if ye were any closer, I'd punch you myself," Demoman said.

"I'll do it for you---!" Soldier burst out. Scout ducked past his first swipe. 

"Too slow!" He rushed down the aisle, and leaped into the seat next to her.

Scout stuck out his tongue. "Ha, I'm touchin' Miss Pauling, like slidin' into home, and she's home, she's _safe_! You can't even get near me!"

Before she could speak up, he slammed his fist into Scout's gut. Everything happened so fast: Scout curled down, groaning in agony, Soldier reached out to land another hit, but this time, Miss Pauling pushed herself between them. Soldier drew back; not even in the heat of the moment would he strike her.

"No violence on vacation, Soldier," Miss Pauling said. Scout let out a sigh of relief beside her. "It doesn't matter if we just closed down a beach."

Saxton Hale cleared his throat. "Now, what's a vacation without a little _manly fisticuffs._ Preferably to the death--"

Miss Pauling crossed her arms. "No more death. That's what we're taking a vacation from."

Saxton hale shuddered. "Then what do you suggest we do? Make flower crowns and make _peace protests?_ "

Soldier's lips curled up in disgust. 

"No, I suggest we take a _vacation_. Killing people is our job. Vacations are for doing things which aren't our jobs," Miss Pauling said very slowly, in hopes it wouldn't be too complex a subject for the men.

Saxton Hale's mustache bristled. "But it's so damn fun. We might as well just go join the _Communists_ if we aren't going out to punch something." 

A murmur rose up from the men. Soldier looked wild and bloodthirsty from the mentioned communists and/or hippies. 

"We could--" She desperately tried to remember what went on at fairs. It'd been so long, and she'd been the type of girl who spent her dances and field trips at home studying so she could destroy her classmates in the next tests. "Scout, what do people do at fairs?"

Scout coughed, and weakly replied, "Go on rides. Win stuff at games. Eat lots. Win stuff to impress girls."

"Eating, you say?" Saxton Hale stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I like that almost as much as I like punching things. Usually they're best together, like guns and violence."

"There's Elephant Ears," Scout said.

"From actual elephants?" Saxton Hale said.

"Nah they're like...fried stuff. Taste friggin' great, though."

"Fried stuff, you say?" Saxton Hale said. He punched up, slamming the top of the bus and making them an inpromptu skylight. He didn't even flinch, or draw away, but simply broke out laughing.

"It's decided! We'll drink, go on rides, and eat these 'Elephant Ears!"

The men cheered--well, all but Demoman. He drank something from a flask, and let out a sigh. "Hair of the dog, don't fail me now. I've got to try one of these Elephant Ears for myself."

"I owe you one," Scout said. He curled against her, his hand still to his gut.

"Maybe you should go to Medic to get that looked at," she said softly.

"Nah... It's just a flesh wound. I'm...fine. But if you'll just let me sit here a second..." Scout said.

"Take as long as you like," she said. 

"Thanks," Scout said. He rested his head on her shoulder. Occasionally he would spasm in pain. She wondered if Soldier had ruptured anything. With the way their vacation was going, Miss Pauling was surprised she hadn't been dragged into burying bodies by now.

"But you can punch all the clowns or carnies you want!" Saxton laughed and smacked Soldier on the shoulder, his usual sign of camaraderie. "Punching is good for you. There was just something on the TV about it. I didn't quite catch it, too busy punching people!" 

"To punching carnies and clowns!" roared most of the men in tandem, their fists all raised to the sky with Saxton Hale's. Everyone but Scout. His hand was nudging hers, like he was thinking about holding her hand, but wouldn't take that one little step.

Saxton Hale punched his fist to his palm for emphasis. No surprise, he was always punching something something or other. "It's decided, we'll hoof it to the amusement park!" 

"Please try to not wrestle a farm animal while you're at the petting zoo, Mr. Hale," she said.

Saxton laughed. "Oh, don't be so silly, Miss Pauling!"

For a moment, she almost had a shred of hope. 

"I'll wrestle _all_ the farm animals!" 

Miss Pauling let out a long sigh. She could reprimand the mercenaries and try and keep them in line, but Saxton Hale was her superior. There was no keeping him under control. In fact, he even had that as his motto on his desk. From the kinds of things Bidwell told her, she was just glad that she worked for the Administrator and only had to deal with things like constantly being on call, never getting a day off, and repeated attempts on her life.

A big green sign advertised _The Allsbury fair, home of the five mile petting zoo!_

"A whole five miles of petting zoos?" Saxton Hale chuckled. "We'll see who bests each other yet, domesticated and fluffy animals!"

Sniper ducked his lanky frame out of the bus with a sudden interest. His gun was left in the bus, surprisingly, but his knitting needles were not.

"Suit yourself, mate. Just leave me some to pet, that's all I'm saying," Sniper said.

Saxton Hale could only shake his head. "Petting? _Petting?_ I can't _believe_ you're an Australian," Saxton Hale said.

"You sound just my my dad," Sniper said.

Pyro had begun to jump in place, clapping his hands in glee.

"We can't let him go unsupervised." 

She had a horrifying image of a newspaper headline _Hundreds die in amusement park fire._

"I'll take 'em," Engineer said. "You wanna go on the bumper cars, Pyro?"

Pyro jumped up and down in sheer glee. "Hudda!"

"All right then, you'll go on the bumper cars. I'm sure there'll be enough time. You can get an Elephant Ear," Engineer said.

"But, the bus―" Miss Pauling said.

"Life's too short to not ride the bumper cars. We'll have the parts and get goin' soon enough," Engineer said. "But if you want to wait around, you're welcome to enjoy bakin' in the bus."

Miss Pauling let out a long sigh. Even her phone was so full of crackling static and seawater from their last excision, that she couldn't even receive messages from the trip.

She could read, maybe. With the phones out, she couldn't take anymore tasks, and she'd already finished the last stack of paperwork. Streams of heat wafted up in a glittered heat mirage off of the blacktop. She sighed and turned the page, only to realize she'd lost her place somewhere during the last time they'd been on the run.

She set the book aside, only to hear footsteps on the pavement. She rested her hand on the gun within her purse. The gun at her thigh, and at her ankle were just a few inches away.

"Hey, Miss Pauling!"

She relaxed her fingers. "Did you forget something, Scout?"

Scout was just outside her bus window. Somewhere along the line it had gotten stuck open. Not that the heat or air conditioning worked in this rickety thing, anyways. 

"Nah, I didn't forget you for a minute. So, Miss Pauling, you wanna go too? Ain't it about time you had a vacation? You spent pretty much this whole time bailin' us out. That can't be much of a vacation."

"I'm pretty used to having my vacation days turn into bailing you all out," she said.

She looked around the surroundings. Technically a bus filled with this much weapons shouldn't be left alone. It was just asking for tons of red tape, people she'd have to kill and papers to forge to get them out of that mess.

"I wouldn't even know what to do with myself with all that free time, besides--"

"I could make suggestions!" Scout gripped the sides of the window, and stood on tip-toe. "I know all the foods, and all the neat stuff to do at places like this. I been down the boardwalk a few times. You want a guide? I'll be the best guide you ever had."

On the other hand, she really needed a vacation. And one had just essentially fallen in her lap. Who knew how many years it would take until she got another chance like this?

It was a bad idea. In fact, she could write ten reports on how much of a bad idea it was. But _damn_ if she didn't want some cotton candy.

"All right," she said. She grabbed her purse. 

"You won't regret this, Miss Pauling, I promise. I'll give you the best time anyone ever had ever. Except for the next time you spend an evenin' out with me. I'd say the beach, but we're probably goin' to avoid those until the cops stop searchin' the beaches--"

She chuckled. "Definitely no beaches for a while."

*

Miss Pauling had pulled on a sunhat before she left the bus--her only one not marred by bullet holes. She noticed a slight bloodstain at the collar of her lavender shirt and grimaced. At least it was small enough that she could pretend it was ketchup.

The ticket booth was striped like a candy cane. The windows were tinted enough that it was hard to see inside. 

"Tickets for two, please. Me and this gorgeous girl over here, who's with me. Did I mention she's right here, with me?" Scout grinned big. Leave it to him to find a way to brag about anything. 

"Oh, just let me---" He wore a lot of stripes, and that was all about all she could see. He bent down, and   
for a startling second, she thought that she'd have to provide a ID. She didn't even remember which fake ID she had in her purse, or the backstory that went with it. Was he pushing the panic button? Had they ended up on the World's Most Wanted list _again_? However, much to her relief, the ticket master rose up, and pushed out two tiny admission tickets. 

"Have fun, but not too much fun." He chuckled to himself, and started to unwind something inside. 

"Oh, we _will,_ " Scout said.

He led he straight through a loud, narrow alley of games and prizes. Lights flashed, as the people who manned the stalls yelled out to passerbys. Somewhere near, something fried was cooking. The light breeze sent all those heavenly scents of grease and carbohydrates her way. Miss Pauling's mouth watered just as the thought of an Elephant Ear Scout had described. Something slathered in sugar, oil, maybe a topping of ice cream as well. Knowing the locale, that'd probably be fried too. 

On the way to the food stalls, Scout took a cut through a row of those so-called 'games of skill.' 

_Step right up, you could win something amazing--!_

_Step right up, you look like someone who could use one of our fabulous prizes!_

But Scout walked past them, like he had something else in mind. It was only when they reached the edge, that someone whistled. She turned to see who would dare catcall her with Scout right nearby. There hadn't been any body burials in her schedule, but there sure as hell was about to be.

But it wasn't that kind of whistle. Which was good for them, as Scout had already whirled around, fists raised.

"Hey, son, you like baseball? Be a star pitcher, and win a _prize!_ "

He wore a striped shirt, like an umpire. A big foam baseball bat was slung over his shoulder. Miss Pauling wasn't exactly that knowledgeable about sports--though Scout often tried to change that--but she was pretty sure the umpires weren't the ones who hit the balls. And they had some kind of big mitt. Or was she mixing up jobs again? She'd have to ask Scout when she next had a free five hours to be taught the minutiae of baseball.

"Oh, it is _on_! I got this," Scout said. 

The umpire raised his hands, like he was mid-cheer. "Play ball!"

Behind him some flashing lights, and a theme of a sports game. Probably baseball, given the decor.

"It's all rigged, Scout," Miss Pauling said.

"Rigged, my ass. I'm goin' to get you that teddy bear."

The stall had a definite baseball theme, with large stuffed baseballs, a few foam baseball bats, and many bears in little baseball uniforms with hats.

He made a big windup, and pitched the ball straight for the bottles. The ball clipped one, and went flying to the side. The umpire had to duck not to be decked across his plastic helmet.

"Strike one!" called the umpire. "Two more, or you're out, unless you pay another $3."

"See?" Miss Pauling said. "It's all a big farce."

"Hey, one strike doesn't mean I'm out. I still got two more before I'm out."

Scout smirked.

"Trust me, I'll show you somethin' so good, those socks will be knocked clean off," Scout said.

Scout took a deep breath and wound up for his toss. The umpire-stall keeper smirked. She saw Scout's grip tighten about the ball. In seconds, he'd thrown it--and she lost sight of everything expect the sound of crashing, glass breaking, and the explosion of supposedly unassailable glass bottles.Her glasses fell down as she could only gape at the sheer amount of desctruction he'd managed.

"Boo yeah! I'm the pitcher who broke a thousand windows!"

The stall-keeper reeled. Scout had hit it so hard that several prizes had fallen down in the back. She half wondered if the flimsy walls of the stall would survive another hit like that. Would they get more prizes or less for utterly destroying the entire place?

Scout jumped up, and cheered. "Did you see, Miss Pauling? Did you? Did you? They went flyin'! It's the pitch of the century! Put me in the history books, because I just _knocked it out of the park!_ "

He started a victory dance of seamlessly blending in many different types of dance. _It's Not Unusual,_ to half a salsa dance. She covered her mouth, caught up in the excitement.

"In your face,! Now, gimme that bear!"

Glass crunched under his feet, as he reached up. He wasn't smiling any longer.

"Hey, I technically got one more try---"

Another plank at the back of the stall fell down with a huge crash. The umpire mask hung at an angle. The umpire's shoulders tensed.

"Will you go away if I give you another bear?" he said.

"I want the purple one," Scout said. "The one with glasses. Yeah, that one back there! And the slugger back there, wearin' the team colors."

In a few seconds, the pair was placed before them on the counter made of a few nailed boards.

One bear was red, with a little baseball cap, and a striped _Red Sox_ shirt. She held it up to the light. Somehow, it reminded her of him. The other seemed to be some kind of purple librarian bear. He gave that one a quick hug before he passed it her way.

"There, now you don't gotta be lonely, on your desk, sortin' all those papers and stuff. And now I got that purple bear, so _he_ won't be lonely."

"I'm glad, I certainly wouldn't want a teddy bear to be lonely," she said dryly.

"I know, right? I'd feel terrible. Glad he's got a girl to flirt with. Maybe he should have some friends, too--"

"We're closed--" The umpire said said suddenly. He abruptly dragged down a tarp she hadn't noticed.

"At least we didn't get arrested this time," Miss Pauling said. She hugged the bears to her chest as they walked on.

"I know, right? I didn't even have to pay for broken windows this time," Scout said. "All through my childhood, that's where my money went. We didn't really have an 'allowance.'"

All around them were flashing lights, and many people trying their luck for something. An alien mask, a stuffed bear, or a goldfish. Scout lit up at the far sight, a giant strongman competition, complete with a giant mallet and bell. 

"Hey, there's another one! I'll give you a good look at these sick muscles--"

"Scout, an 8 year old beat you in a flexing contest," Miss Pauling said.

But he didn't hear her as he ran on ahead. Just as he got in line, the bell rung loud enough for her to flinch back. 

"--And we have a winner! The Mannuiss book of records would be interested in this, our strongman of the year. No, dare I say, the century!"

Scout's shoulders drooped. "Aw, man."

"And for this daring display, as our grand prize winner, you win the grand prize! A dozen doves!"

Medic gazed starry-eyed at the cage. "Ohh, Heavy, you are incredible! Look at all these _birds_. Oh, who's a good little boy? Yes, you are! I'll call you Socrates!" 

"Maybe you should stick to the pitching ones. They seem more your style," Miss Pauling said.

"Yeah, I guess," Scout said. He turned back, his shoulders stooped in disappointment. 

Medic hummed as he carried his new cage of birds. "Archimedes will be so happy, look at all his new siblings. Isn't that right, Aristotle?" 

"I wouldn't have time to take care of birds, anyways," Miss Pauling said. "I'd much rather have something that doesn't require care. Like these bears," she said.

Scout brightened. "Yeah, those are great. You want some more?"

"Um, that's nice, but I wouldn't even have anywhere to put them," Miss Pauling said. 

"But, you probably got room in your house, right?"

"Well, maybe," she said.

But Scout's attention was already diverted. 

"Hey, cotton candy!"

He grabbed her wrist and rushed towards the stall. "Miss Pauling, look at 'em! You want some?"

"What? Sure," she said. Sometimes it took real effort just to keep up with him, and not just speed. 

Scout grabbed two big bundles of them, rose pink and baby blue.

"Fried vegetables, fried ice cream, fried twinkies... and fried fried. What's fried fried? Do I even want to know?"

"I don't know, but it sounds delicious," Scout said. "I'm goin' to eat it all. You want some too?"

"Oh, hell no. My stomach would implode. A black hole. And then it would turn up on my thighs a couple weeks later."

"Then cheer me on," Scout said. He kicked his legs underneath the table. 

"Yay, go team?" she said.

"That's the spirit," Scout said. He peeled fluffy balls of colorful sugar and curled them around his fingers.

"Does it taste better like that?" she said.

"It's way more fun. You should try it."

He looked down, and then smirked the kind of smirk which usually had her having to tell him that no, robbing a store naked wasn't the great idea he thought it was.

He wrapped pieces of cotton candy around the straw of his pop. "Roses for the lovely lady. Even better, these won't get smelly after a couple days. Or at least I think it won't. Never kept it that long."

"I'm sure the sugar would keep it a long time," she said. She lifted it to her nose, and buried her face against the softness.

"Edible 'flowers,' how nice," she said. She undid the thick quasi-petals

"You think that's somethin'? Wait until we get back, I'll get you a dozen roses. No, _two_ dozen roses!"

She threw her head back and laughed. "You're so competitive that now you're trying to one-up yourself."

"Hell yeah I am. Current me is a jackass if he thinks cotton candy and bears are goin' to be enough. I'm goin' to kick his ass, _then_ take you to some great dinner...though we might have to go outside of Teufort, 'cause all they've got is the Greasy Diner, Inquisitor Chicken, and a couple bars," Scout said.

"I'll be happy to tell my boss about all the free time I'll be having," she said.

"I'll figure out a way," he said.

"You always do somehow. Except sometimes it ends up with me breaking you out of jail again."

"But you always do," Scout said.

He bent the straw, and made another flower. "So, thanks for that. I can sleep all right, because I know that no matter what stupid shit I do, you'll always have my back. You're a real swell girl."

She smiled. But before she could respond, the sound of laughter and screams made her turn.

"Were those fun screams or _oh shit, somebody just set everything on fire_ screams?"

"Only one way to find out," Scout said. He tossed the empty cup, and shoved the rest of the cotton candy in his mouth. Which was something, considering that there was a lot left. Scout could eat like a damn _hamster_.

They sought out the source of the screams. Scout stared in his own kind of awe at the commotion underneath that little circle of cars and chaos.

Pyro drove around in a little bumper car covered with flames. He pressed the horn, a tinny little thing, over and over as he slammed into the assorted screaming five year olds.

"Now be careful, don't set the track on fire," Engineer called. 

Pyro raised his hands in a cheer.

One of the mothers stepped nearby, with a smile. "Why, what a big boy you have. Is he in his Halloween costume?"

"Nah, Pyro likes to dress like that all the time."

Her brow creased. "How...quaint. Pyro...is that sort for something? A nickname?"

"Naw, it just sums up our Pyro."

"Oh, all right then," the mother said. She bent and collected her children, with one worried backwards glance.

"Well, no mass destruction. Thank God," Miss Pauling. She let out a sigh. "We're safe for another three seconds, at least. As long as Saxton Hale hasn't started punching goats yet."

"Are you thinkin' of what I'm thinkin'?

"Knowing you, it's me naked, so no," she said.

Scout broke out coughing. All his swagger was knocked down a notch. "The---I-I was goin' to suggest gettin' on the bumper cars, but maybe you had other plans--"

"Bumper cars is a great idea," she said quickly. "Let's do that."

The wait time was surprisingly short, which was good, as she couldn't look him in the eyes without blushing. Sometimes her sense of sarcasm got the best of her. 

But she recovered some of her composure as she climbed into the little car. There was something thrilling about being able to smash things. And she knew exactly who she wanted.

"I'm going to destroy you," Miss Pauling said. 

Scout's grin was positively loopy. "Probably, you're pretty awesome."

"Prepare yourself!"

"You prepare yourself. I'm goin' to drive this bumper car so well, it'll break your heart and have you beggin' me to--"

"Keep it G-rated, Scout. There's five year olds nearby," Miss Pauling said dryly.

Scout cleared his throat. "It'll make you real impressed, that's all I'm sayin'."

"We'll see who's impressed by the end."

"Ha, you say that, but _I'm already impressed._ "

She pushed down on the accelerator, and drove straight for him. Laughter bubbled out as they slammed together. He tried to accelerate, but she shot forward before he could even reach.

"Dang, you play hard--"

He was cut off by the sideways swipe of Pyro. Pyro giggled as he trapped Scout in a corner.

"Good job, Pyro! Help me destroy Scout!"

"Oh, I see how this is. I still got an ace up my sleeve," Scout said.

"Flexing won't save you here. You're surrounded," Miss Pauling said.

"Ehe." She bumped against him, pushing Scout straight into the large wall. 

"Oh, I'll find an openin'--"

"G-rated, Scout," she said.

"That was G-rated. You're the one with the dirty mind," Scout said. He bumped hard into her, enough to make her rock. But, before he could get out of the wedge, Pyro slammed him into the wall.

"Time's up!" Called out one of the stall management over a microphone.

"Aww, I guess you couldn't kick my ass forever," Scout said.

"I'm sure I'll find something new to beat you at," she said.

"Sure, you play dirty. Wearin' cute skirts and stuff. How am I supposed to compete with that? You won't let me go at it shirtless!"

"This is my default work outfit," Miss Pauling said dryly. "If the neckline was any higher, I'd be choking on it."

"Still damn cute!"

"You goin' for another run, Pyro, or do you want some ice cream?"

Pyro screamed something indecipherable from under the mask, and lifted his hands in a cheer.

Miss Pauling couldn't tell if it was a yes or no, but Pyro climbed out of the car, and rushed towards Engineer.

"Oh, you want some ice cream first? All right, we've got time for an ice cream break," Engineer said.

"Did you get the parts we need?" Miss Pauling said.

Engineer shook his head. "Naw. I'll get to it. Don't get all worried. Live a little," Engineer said.

Miss Pauling drew a long breath, and tried to keep her homicidal urges to a minimum. _Not in front of the children, and definitely not with all these witnesses_ , she thought to herself. _There's always time later for maiming._

"Hey, Miss Pauling..." Scout said warily.

Miss Pauling thought the murder wasn't showing on her face, but either she had underestimated her poker face, or Scout had gotten better at reading her.

"All right, we can go on the bumper cars again, but we're goin' to have to go get those bus parts before Miss Pauling throws what's left of us into the ocean," Engineer said.

"Smart man," Miss Pauling said.

Scout slipped his arm in hers. "Let's go get a drink or somethin'. I'm parched. You look like you could use some soda. Actually, you look like you could use a beer or twenty, but I don't think they sell that here."

What she could use was some competent mercenaries. How dare they want to spend their vacation having fun? She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. 

"You're right, I am a bit thirsty," she said. With that, they headed back to the food stalls.

*

She sipped at her coke. It was almost dry, but her irritation had only slightly abated. At this rate, they'd have to get a hotel, and spend another night. And with this fair, there might not even be any openings. Just as she walked on, a voice called out from nearby.

"Hey, miss, would you fancy a try at our dunking pool? 3$ a ball. It all goes to charity." 

Miss Pauling considered the dunk tank.

"Do we get to choose who gets dunked?" Miss Pauling said.

"Of course; that's half the fun," the man said. He tipped his elaborate top hat. It had stars and stripes, like he'd only managed half of an Uncle Sam costume. "You got someone in mind?"

"Oh, yes," Miss Pauling said. She broke into a big smile. "Yes, I do."

"Because whoever it is, they'd have to be annoying enough to heckle crowds, and make them want to force them into this ice cold water."

Scout raised his hand, and started hopping in place. "Me! This job was made for me! I am the _best_ at hecklin'!"

She handed a couple dollars to the man in the top hat, as Scout climbed up the ladder. He sat on the wedge, his legs kicking up as he snapped his gum. Just behind them, she heard someone let out a gasp. Miss Pauling turned, only to see Medic outright gaping.

Medic grinned manically. "Oh, I've been waiting for this day for a _long_ time. I'll take ten."

"Well, sir, we've got a person---"

"I can wait," Miss Pauling cut in.

"Please, Doc, you think you can pitch me down? You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn! Yeah, you think you can hit me? You couldn't touch this if you tri---"

He was cut off as a ball slammed into the target, and he crashed down. Water splashed over, flecking her glasses.

Heavy pulled out several bills. "I could not take anymore; I had to shut him up."

"Incredible! You managed to shut him up so incredibly fast." Medic said breathlessly. There was something dark in his eyes, as he reached up to whisper _"Do it again_."

Heavy dusted off his hands. "Ooh, I want to be next," Medic said eagerly. "I've waited for this moment for so long. Except, in my mind, the tank was filled to piranhas."

Scout climbed back up onto the wedge, only to find many more mercenaries waiting. Pyro clapped with glee.

"You wanna shut Scout up too? Aww, we'll shut him up together," Engineer said.

Scout swallowed. "Hey, fellas. You in for some charity too? Because I bet you couldn't hit me, not with aimin' like that."

"You aren't one to talk about aimin', mate," Sniper said. "You can't even hit to toilet when you piss."

"That ain't me! I'm tellin' you, Soldier's the one who keeps blowin' the bathroom up," Scout said.

"Probably, that sounds like him," Demoman said. "But I'm takin' ye down a notch too, lad."

"Remember, I have two more tries," Heavy said. Miss Pauling stepped out of the blast radius. 

One after another, the mercenaries got back in line. She couldn't help but laugh as his insults were cut off. The men looked so happy, and Scout's clothes clung so very tightly to his skin. Scout's heckling was so good, passerbys joined in. Soon enough, there was even a line of people waiting to dunk him. 

But after an entire hour of dunking, even the mercenaries left for drinks, and probably property destruction, knowing them.

She stepped forward and dug into the basket of baseballs. "My turn," she said.

"You too, Miss Pauling? You know what I think? You just wanted to get me wet enough to peel these clothes off--"

Miss Pauling pushed back the dunking target, and he fell into the deep water. "My hand slipped," she said, as she handed an extra bill to the stall owner.

Like hell she was going to let him know he was right.

Scout sputtered, and spat out water. "That's enough. My balls are goin' to freeze off if I keep it up," Scout said.

"Guess what comes next, Miss Pauling? Looks like you got into my pants after all," Scout said.

"Just for that, I should dunk you again."

"If I'm not wet and sexy enough for you, then go for it," Scout said.

"If you spend anymore time in that water, you're going to get hypothermia," she said.

He crawled out, water pouring off. With a smirk, Scout pulled off his shirt slowly, like a striptease. He wrung out his red shirt and tossed it over the edge of the tank But unsteady with the weight, he fell headlong back into the water, with a huge splash. After a few seconds, he surfaced, and spat out water.

"Okay, tryin' that again. I'm so handsome, the water can't get enough of me. I just make this tank so _wet_."

"Scout, you need to get back on the wedge," Miss Pauling said silkily.

Scout just laughed as he climbed out the whole way.

The man in the top hat rushed forward. "We've crunched the numbers, and you made over ten thousand dollars in ten minutes."

"Anythin' for---what was the charity, again?"

"Finding homes for stray puppies."

"Anythin' for the pups," Scout said.

If her job at Mann co. ever disappeared, she could make quite a bit of money monetizing Scout's talkative and brash nature. She could just see it now: a sign with _for eight thousand dollars, I'll shut him up_. And then kisses to make him quiet after a good five hours of chatter, like a filibuster, but with bragging and baseball.

Lots of kisses, in fact. Maybe on a stack of money.

"That's some smile. You enjoyin' the sights that much?" Scout said. 

Her cheeks flushed. "Dammit Scout, there's children nearby."

"I got it. Put the shirt back on. He pulled out an identical red shirt to his last and pulled it on, much to her secret disappointment. 

Yes, it was the right thing to do, but she'd been enjoying his lack of a shirt. It was sort of like a mini-vacation in itself. Which one of those little things she never told him, because if she did, Scout would become a dedicated nudist. 

It was easier just to pay Demoman to cut off his shirt with so-called 'drunken sword accidents' anyways.

But at least his skin was still damp enough to make his shirt cling tight to his skin.

"Always keep a spare, that's my mantra. But sheesh! I didn't think it'd be _that_ cold." He rubbed the goosebumps across his forearms.

"I thought you were a tough Boston boy who had gone through so many Nor'easters that nothing cold phased you anymore?" she teased.

"Hey, I got my limits. That water was ball-freezingly cold. Well, you dunked and destroyed me, what's next? The Step On Scout Hour? Because I'm game," Scout said.

She shouldn't be surprised, but she supposed that was another thing to add to his file. Actually, the Administrator didn't need to know his possible sexual kinks. She'd just keep that on a very secret notebook. So secret that if anyone asked about it, she'd kill them. Even if it was Scout doing the asking.

"Finding something hot would probably make you feel better."

He grinned at her. "Step one, achieved."

"To _eat_ , Scout."

He raised his eyebrows. "Why, Miss Pauling, I never thought you'd ask."

Her cheeks flushed bright red. "Food, I'm talking about food," she said. 

Scout chuckled. "I'll save the best for later." 

He brightened as they came back to a very well tread place. "Ooh, back to the food stalls!"

A few minutes later, fed and warmer, they doubled back towards the well-worn path to the food vendors. 

"I have a feeling we're going to be coming back here a lot," Miss Pauling said.

"You can't run a race without lots of fuel," Scout said. 

A few minutes later, they had something fried, with little to no nutritional value, and were back off through the fair. The Elephant Ears weren't quite the slice of heaven Scout described them as, but knowing his penchant for exaggeration, that was no surprise. They were still pretty good, despite a hell of a guilty pleasure. Unlike Scout, she couldn't eat ten dinners and come out skinnier than when he started. She never could figure out how his metabolism worked, but it was something Miss Pauling would've killed for.

Which wasn't saying much, as she killed for a living; there wasn't much she wouldn't kill for. 

"Wait, you gotta try the rides," Scout said. He craned his neck, and pointed. Just past another set of flashing skill games was a tall carousel full of horses and lions and griffins rising up and down to a bouncy music. The top was painted a deep red, and shaped like curtains. Little flashing lights were just at the top, hung like Christmas bulbs.

"It's a ride for five year olds, Scout," she said.

"Nah, it ain't only for five year olds. Don't underestimate it! These horses are all right. This is the real fair deal. You can't skip the carousel. That's like...goin' to the ballpark and not even gettin' a frank and some peanuts. It just ain't the same."

She shrugged. Miss Pauling had a hard time believing a children's ride would _rock her world_ , as he put it, but it was worth a try.

She climbed up on a lion. He took the horse just near her. Her fingers wrapped tight about the pole as the world spun around them. There was still that sweet mix taste of cotton candy and ice cream in her mouth. She was surprised her stomach wasn't churning, with a mix of heat, sweet food, and spinning.

But after so many years of burying pieces of dead bodies--some which had gone rancid in the heat of the Badlands--very little could make her nauseous. 

The music played on as they went up and down, up and down. She caught glimpses of other happy families waiting in line, walking on to other rides. Beside her, Scout burst into laughter.

"Wooo! Yeah! Giddyup!" She could see a sliver of the puffy white clouds across the bright blue sky, a glint of sunlight flashed across the sparkling top. Miss Pauling could see just a hint of the wonder that Scout found in small things, like the game stalls and the rides. She closed her eyes and held out her hands, just to catch some of that wonder.

She looked back, and caught sight of his smile, the way he looked at her, like no one else ever had. Like each time, he had to take a second glance just because he was that amazed by her, and even by life. _Well, Scout, I guess you did rock my world_ she thought.

She felt a tinge of dizziness as she climbed off. "You wanna go again?" Scout said.

She looked back, then shook her head. "It's fun, but I'm not sure spinning and greasy food are as great a combination as the fair thinks it is."

"Speakin' of greasy, there's some more food stalls over there!"

"You're still hungry? We just ate five minutes ago!"

"Damn straight I am."

"You eat like a hobbit," she said.

Scout tilted his head.

"You know, first breakfast, second breakfast--what, you never read The Lord of The Rings?"

"Lord of the what?"

"I'm fixing this as soon as we get back. Also, you could kill somebody with the collected edition...I'd know," she said.

"Handy," Scout said.

Just as Scout was about to lead her back towards the food stalls, something caught his eye. "Ooh, you gotta see this!"

A large clown face was printed on the front. Balloon shapes made up the letters _Funhouse_.

"Clowns? I'm out," Miss Pauling said.

"Nah, that's just the front. Besides, if any of those clowns get near, I'll punch 'em," Scout said.

"If you have anything left after I blow their red noses off, then be my guest," Miss Pauling said.

"You don't like clowns either? See, I've been tellin' you we have a ton in common."

"I don't think anyone really likes clowns. They just pretend to be polite," Miss Pauling said.

"Rich fucks ruin everythin'."

They walked up the rickety steps, and ducked down into the abyss.

"Well, it has fun in the title," she muttered to herself. It remained to be seen if it would live up to it.

The inside was some hellish landscape of smoke machines and mirror mazes. She'd gone through just this, the last time Soldier's roommate had sent them all to hell. At least hell didn't have any clowns. She passed by a mirror which left her extremely stout and small, and him almost Heavy's size. Scout grinned and flexed into that one. "Now this is what I'm talkin' about." He turned to another one which warped his face out long, like taffy. 

Scout pulled open his lips wide with his fingers, and made silly faces at the mirrors.

Miss Pauling smiled. "Practicing for the photobooth?" 

"You're a friggin' genius! They gotta have a bunch of those. We'll have tons of pictures! And this time, they ain't even mugshots!"

"You want to leave already?" Miss Pauling said.

Before Scout could respond, something slunk along across the mirrors. Miss Pauling's reflexively reached for the gun in her purse, only to notice the figure looked familiar. 

"Wow, Sniper looks freakishly tall," Scout said.

"You sure you're looking in the mirror for that?" Miss Pauling said dryly.

"And she looks freakishly small," Sniper said.

"And _I_ look freakishly handsome. I think this is just a regular mirror," Scout said.

"No, it's definitely one of those warped ones," Sniper said. He stepped out from the mirrors with a gun on his shoulder. A second glance made her realize it was actually a plush toy he must've won at some point.

"What are you doing in here?" Miss Pauling said.

"Cockblockin' your alone time, apparently."

Scout coughed. "Yeah, maybe a little."

"Didn't think you'd get this far," Sniper said.

Each of them had to nod at this.

"Life's amazin' like that, pally. What are you in for?"

"That bloody Spy went and stole my ice cream. I'm gettin' my revenge. He went and disappeared right into here--"

Miss Pauling grimaced. "It costs a dollar a cone. You could buy every single scoop they had and not even make a dent in your bank account."

"It's the principle of the matter," Sniper said. He turned his head and lifted his plush gun, as if it could do anything, other than boop Spy in the head.

He started to walk off, towards the nearing footsteps.

"No reenacting the scenes of a thriller movie!" Miss Pauling called after him.

"Come on now, it's _ice cream_. If a man doesn't stake his honor on ice cream, what can he stake it on?"

Snorting laughter echoed down the hall, past the smoke machine.

"I'm goin' to--"

"Walk on out of here and save the killing for later when you won't traumatize toddlers," Miss Pauling said firmly.

"I got my eye on you, you bloody spy," Sniper said.

"Oh dear, whatever shall I do? You might even _cover me with piss,_ like some animal," Spy said.

"Maybe I will," Sniper snarled. 

"Keep it in your pants, Sniper," Miss Pauling said.

Scout's brow creased in thought. "Wait, you want him to piss his pants? I mean, there's a porta-potty just outside if you have to go, man."

She cleared her throat. "I wasn't---Never mind. Keep it in the bathroom," she said.

Scout reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple bent ones. "Here, have more ice cream. It's on me."

Sniper took it quickly, and glared back into the smoky darkness. "I'm goin' to have some Mint Chocolate chip, and there ain't nothin' you can do about it."

"Oh really, now? I think there's many things I could do," Spy said silkily.

"Spy, you're a grown man, and you're acting like a kindergartener pulling pigtails," Miss Pauling said.

"Am I?" Spy's laughter echoed.

"Pigtails, really?" Sniper said.

Miss Pauling lifted one eyebrow. "What would you call it? Because all I'm seeing are many words that begin with the letter 'F.'"

"Like fightin'," Scout said.

"That's one of them."

"And foes?" Scout said.

 _And flirting, and probably fucking,_ she thought.

"Then you need new glasses," Sniper said. He walked off without another word.

"The ones she already got are plenty cute!" Scout called after him.

Sniper didn't respond. Either he'd left for his ice cream, or was in hunt of Spy again. Maybe both, he was pretty good at multitasking.

Maybe she'd leave the conversation of _by the way, not only is your teammate dating your mom, he decided one dad wasn't enough, so you now have a mom and two dads_ to Scout's mother. Her kind-of date-slash-vacation was not the time to watch Scout's brain explode. He was just not ready for the _this is the meaning of ménage à trois_ talk.

After a few more strange mirrors, they stepped out into the light. Miss Pauling squinted into the distance.

"Not sure why it's called a Funhouse," she said.

"Hey now, it wasn't too bad. Any place with you is a Funhouse--even a graveyard," Scout said.

"Provided that there aren't zombies rising out of the graves this time," she replied.

"That time was pretty cool, you gotta admit. It was like we were action heroes. I'll never forget the way you grabbed Soldier's bazooka up from his corpse and shot down that big thing that crawled up, and had ahold of my foot." 

His smile turned tender. "You had dirt all over your face, and some kind of brain goop. You were covered in other people's blood, and smelled like a walkin' corpse, and you were like an avengin' angel. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

"And you almost got bit because of it," Miss Pauling said.

"So, I was a little distracted. You blasted his head off long before it got to sink its teeth into me."

Scout broke off and pointed. "Oh, there it is!"

They found a photobooth on the far side of the fair. Echoes of the games clanking and dinging, the swirling of rides, and cries all seemed far away. Scout put a few dollars in.

"You comin' in, Miss Pauling?"

It'd be cramped, she'd be expected to be silly, and and unauthorized flirting was bound to happy, maybe even from both of them.

"Oh, what the hell," she said. She dunked under the dark curtains.

"Smile for the camera, Miss P! We gotta practice for when the paparazzi comes for us," Scout said.

"Hopefully not for crimes against humanity," Miss Pauling said.

"Nah, for incredible hotness and general awesomeness. They'll take one look at us and make us _stars_."

"Ah yes, just the thing for people on the run with extensive criminal records and ties to criminal organizations," Miss Pauling said dryly.

"You'd use some Pauling magic and get us out, just like always," Scout said. He smiled, full of fond memories.

"Pauling magic?" she laughed.

"Like that thing where you manage to do a million things in a day and kick ass and all in twenty-four hours? Hell, I gotta have a gun to my head just to get up before noon," Scout said.

The camera flashed as he winked, made kissy faces, and flexed. All the while, she had stood by in each one. Smiling, but not quite _silly_. He had enough silliness for the both of them, after all.

"C'mon, flex for the camera!" 

"Well, one flex won't hurt," Miss Pauling said demurely. She pulled back her sleeves, and showed her bicep.

Scout let out a whistle. "Now there's some muscles."

She broke into laughter as Scout lifted both arms. "Oh no, a double gun salute."

"Thaaat's right! We're goin' to blow this joint up, with the power of our arms!"

"You sound like a miniature-Saxton Hale."

Scout lifted one eyebrow. "I don't know if that's a compliment or not," Scout said.

She laughed. "Me either."

"Hey, hold up the bears," Scout said. "They should get in on this too."

"The what--? You're sounding like Saxton again," she said.

"The bears! Remember? Me bein' an amazin' hero and winnin' them, all the flashin' lights and glory? Should've gotten a picture."

"Oh, I thought you meant the type you wrestle. You know, _bears_ bears. I'm sure you'd love for nothing more than somebody to follow you around with a movie camera all the time," Miss Pauling said dryly.

"Yeah! That'd be awesome. Except when I do my job. Leavin' evidence is bad, or so you keep tellin' me," he said.

"She reached back and pulled them out of his bag. He already had the little red one up. Damn, he moved fast. Like some kind of superhero. She'd have to get Scout to tell her which was the fast one next time she had five hours free to be lectured about comic books.

"Okay, one three, two, one--"

As the camera flashed, he pushed their little noses together to bump.

In the progression, he made a silly face at the camera, and she stood, looking on. Then the smile came, and the pictures started to change. There was as the one where she laughed and looked utterly ridiculous, with glasses that had slid down, and food in her teeth, and the one where he even got her to stick out her tongue

"That was great! I mean, I'd put some more bills in, but there's still a whole section of fried stuff we ain't gotten to yet," Scout said.

" _You_ haven't gotten to yet. I don't think I want to even _see_ an Elephant Ear for a long time," she said.

"I'll eat for the both of us," Scout said proudly.

She was still amazed he hadn't made an oral joke all that time. Somewhere, someone had lost a bet over those few minutes in the photobooth. She was sure of it.

He hadn't even tried to kiss her, she thought with some disappointment.

"You're keeping all of them?" She sifted through them and shook her head. "In this one, I closed my eyes. And in this one, it caught me with my tongue out."

"Ey, these are precious memories. Besides, you look just as cute with your eyes closed as open." He lifted up one of them both flexing, and smiled. "Now this? This is priceless."

"Because of all the muscles?"

"Nah, because I finally got you to flex. I've been tryin' for _ages_. I'm goin' to put these all over my wall! That way, when I think of doin' somethin' stupid, I'll just look up and you'll be flexin' at me. Like some kind of guardian angel who tells me to stop being a dumbass."

"That sounds like me all right," she said.

"Especially the part about bein' an angel," Scout said.

An angel of death, maybe.

It had started to get dark. Miss Pauling glanced at her watch, and blinked several times. Had it really been that many hours? The time had flown by--literally, in some cases. 

"We'll have to hurry and get back to the bus. Hopefully it's fixed by now."

"Can I at least get some more food for the road? Knowin' you guys, you won't even stop. Hell, last time Saxton told us to pee in a jar instead of stoppin'," Scout said.

"Again?" She laughed. "Fine, fine, we can get some on the way back."

Before they reached the stalls, Scout stopped. The Ferris wheel was lit up golden against the darkened sky. Scout stared at it in complete wonder, and caught her wrist.

"Miss Pauling---! You gotta see this."

"We really need to get going," she said.

"One more ride, Miss Pauling? A trip to the fair ain't the same if you don't go on the ferris wheel!" All she saw was a framework of steel and lights, but Scout seemed to see something damn life-changing. He looked at the ride sort of how he looked at her, like it was the most glorious, beautiful piece of steel ever.

He caught her hand, and squeezed it. His skin was warm against her. Somehow, the thought of seeing his disappointment was a worse fate than the Administrator's possible wrath.

They were this late already; a few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

"Okay, but it'll have to be quick," Miss Pauling said. This many hours without news from base could be downright deadly.

The line went so fast, she wondered if blackmail and/or bomb threats had been involved. Before she could ask if he'd called in a favor, they were up and seated. The grate went down, and the ride rumbled to life.

The rise was slow, but it was the sickening, hurtling crunch of a stop that made her clutch to the nearest thing--which happened to be him.

"Dammit, I think we're stuck," Miss Pauling said. 

"I love this ride so much," Scout said. He was downright starry-eyed. "There's nobody else I'd rather be stuck with. Just look at that view!"

From this high up, she could see miles of lights, like a reflection of stars. Families below led their children off, with cotton candy dreams and happy nostalgic lives that passed by her for a second, before moving on.

"This place ain't too bad, but there was this one down in Boston which was _amazin'_. My dad took me before he disappeared." Scout rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, before continuing. "It was the first time I ever got to go to somethin' like that. We were always poor, but that day I had ten whole dollars to myself. I stuffed myself on so much food, and then went all these rides. You probably think I'm goin' to say how I blew chunks all day, but actually I kept it down. If only because my brothers would've never let me live that one down. He was gone the next year, and there weren't anymore fairs for a long time after that."

She traced her thumb across his wrist. Words failed her. But they never failed Scout; he continued on, filling any silence she left. 

"Glad the next time could be with you. That makes it special. Hey, Miss Pauling, I been meanin' to tell you... You do a lot for us, you know? With all that paper filin' and body buryin'. So, thanks. Not from all the men, they smell and should've sent you the damn thank you cards I suggested. But from me, the one who sends thank you cards, and showers more than once a year--you know, the awesome handsome one," Scout said.

He leaned in, then pulled back, like stutter.

"Look, I really like you. You're awesome and smell real nice and can read."

"Good to know my basic human hygiene and literacy has turned heads," Miss Pauling said dryly.

"I'm serious. I can't stop thinkin' about it. You and me. I just know we'd be _great_ together. I mean, I think there's points where he had real moments. Like when you saved me from the zombies, and when busted us out of jail, by usin' that laser to blow down the walls...that was real badass. You were like a tiny James Bond, but with glasses."

"That was pretty fun, and so are you, but--I work three-hundred and sixty four days a year. And most of the time the one day I have off gets taken in. Scheduling anything in is a real challenge."

Scout fell silent for a moment. "If waitin' all year to see you one on one is what I gotta do, then I'm down. I'd rather be with you than a girl around three-hundred and sixty-five days of the year."

"Really?" Miss Pauling said.

"Yeah," Scout said. He sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. "You pretty much ruined me for anybody else."

"Well...technically we'll see each other at work. And you could help me with jobs, and see me at lunch..."

"Yeah, there's tons of time we could fit in around there! Hey, wait---So, this had to count as a vacation, right?"

She tilted her head. "I'd say it's more of a vacation than the beach part where we were running off, with the sound of sirens in the distance," Miss Pauling said.

"Yeah, that'd feel more like work." Scout broke into a big grin. "We went a whole five hours without any interruptions. No monsters, no dead people to bury this time. Hit me one!" Scout lifted his hand. She shook her head, and laughed, before gently high-fiving him.

An animal shriek echoed down, along with laughter. Alien, wizards, the police, or bodies might've not ruined today, but Saxton Hale sure was doing his damnedest.

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," Miss Pauling said.

"It ain't over yet," Scout said. "We're stuck up here, and can't do anythin'. We could be stuck here for _hours_ ," Scout said.

"If we're lucky," she said.

This time she did kiss him. It felt like the world lurched in this warm brush, only to realize the ride had started again. So much for those hours. But with the seconds ticking by, she kissed him again.

Maybe it really did, she thought. The world seemed somewhat different as they stepped off, hand in hand.

*

"That was the fiercest goat I ever wrestled," Saxton Hale said.

"She beat you bloody," Sniper said.

"Details, details," Saxton Hale said.

"While Saxton over here was gettin' beat up by a goat, I petted fifty-five rabbits. Knocked that right off my bucket list."

Saxton Hale grimaced. "Petting rabbits was your idea of a _bucket list_?"

"And it's not on yours? Mate, get with the program. They had such _soft_ ears." 

Saxton hale shook his head. 

Pyro was nearly buried in stuffed toys which had spilled all over the floor. He was hugging and rolling around with them, happy as could be. 

"So many birds! Oh, what a beauty," Medic gently stroked the breast of his new white dove. "Socrates, you're in good hands."

Beside him were many stuffed birds, enough to fill a giant gunny sack. Obviously, Heavy had been busy since winning the hammer championship. As the bus started, they began to slip down. Heavy scooped up the plush toys which were utterly dwarfed in his large hands.

The first ring cut through the chatter of conversion. Miss Pauling desperately searched through her bag. Had the phone worked all this time?

But it was Saxton Hale who plucked up a phone from his belt. "I wonder what Bidwell's got this time. Hopefully, he's ordered those new steaks."

"You had a phone all this time?" Miss Pauling said incredulously.

"Details, details," Saxton Hale said. 

"Hand it over. I bet it's her," she said. 

After he handed it over, Miss Pauling put the phone to her ear.

"Hello----Administrator? I--the phones were down, and Saxton Hale called us all out for this--"

"Helen? Hand it over, I've got plenty to say!"

Miss Pauling reluctantly handed the phone his way. Saxton smiled, at what must've been the truly vile, horrendous threats from the Administrator. What little she could catch made a cold chill run down her spine, and she killed people in horrific ways for a living. Well, that and plenty of blackmail, burying, and assorted forgeries. 

"Right, we'll get the men back now, they've had their fun. You can't work them _all_ day, Helen."

He chuckled. "See you later! God, I love that woman. Like wrestling with a tiger. Well, looks like we're headed back. She really might try and kill me tonight. What will it be this time? Wild animals? Armored men? Whatever surprise she's got, I know it'll be a good fight. She always sends the best henchmen--or hench-creatures." He broke out laughing.

"Dude," Scout said. "What the hell?"

"It works for them. Besides, their uh, time spent together makes her less murderous. Anyways, we have to head out. If she's busy trying to kill Saxton Hale, she might forget to kill us."

Saxton Hale grinned, and cracked his massive knuckles. "I'd like to see her try. Imagine a fight to the death, muscles rippling, and those fiery eyes--she'd truly be a worthy opponent!"

Demoman woke suddenly. Somehow, possibly through the power of magic, severe alcoholism, or both, he'd managed to sleep through everything up to Saxton's outburst.

"What? The vacation's already over? It's just barely begun! We didn't even get to the Oktoberfest," Demoman said.

"That isn't for months yet," Medic said.

"Oh? Well, back to work, then," Demoman said.

"Demo's right. It feels like it just started," Scout said.

"We got a cage of birds, some stuffed animals, and the cops are after us. I can't think of a better way to end of a vacation," Medic said. "If we had any more fun, then bodies would be piling up."

Miss Pauling nodding knowingly. Most of the mercenaries couldn't leave the base without a body count. Except for Scout, who couldn't leave without hitting on anything female and breathing. He'd even flexed for the grandmother knitting club, and hadn't even been drunk at the time.

Or, at least he _used_ to. Nowadays, he was leaving the flexing for her.

"You know, Miss Pauling, it could take _hours_ to get back to base," Scout said. He 

"Scout, we're on a bus with a bunch of other people. People we work with, no less. They'd never let us live it down," Miss Pauling hissed. 

"Jeez, you _do_ have a dirty mind, I was thinkin' we could hold hands and talk the whole time," Scout said. He broke into a grin. "But I'll take a rain check on that. Without the audience, though." 

Her cheeks flushed red, but she took his offered hand. "Here's to a long trip home," she said. 

*

When she got back to her office, there were old familiar stresses. Phones ringing constantly, orders to be filled, people to be killed, and bodies to be buried. But there were two teddy bears. A little purple one with glasses, and a red one with a baseball cap. Right beside them were framed pictures from their trip into the photobooth. Scout had gotten the one where they flexed put on his wall, while she had gotten several where he made kissy-faces at the camera, and made their bears give nose kisses. She looked on the brink of laughter. She hadn't smiled, let alone laughed, in a photo in years. But Scout had changed all that. 

And every time she caught sight of them, she couldn't help but smile a little, and remember that despite it all, she'd gotten her day off.


End file.
